Page 100 of A Rare Find

She stared, then shut her eyes, terrified by their beauty, by how badly she wanted to touch their skin, by the thought that she needed them to kiss her, now.

Those curls she’d touched last night between their thighs—they were orange as flame.

She felt their fingers graze her throat.

“Elf.” Their breath was hot against her lips.

“Kiss me,” she said.

Their open mouth moved on hers with torturous slowness. She made an angry, needy sound, and they laughed with an unbridled delight that once would have made her bristle with its smugness. But she was beyond caring. And she could feel their own need in the convulsive flex of their fingers on her jaw, could hear it in their laughter’s ragged edge.

She put her hand between their thighs.

They inhaled sharply. She didn’t move a muscle. They held her face an inch from theirs and peered at her.

She peered back.

“You really are a menace,” they murmured. “What to do with you?”

She shook her head, unable to speak, belly aching, thighs already flooded.

Slowly, they lowered their mouth until it brushed her ear.

“Don’t worry,” they whispered. “I have ideas.”

They bent their knees, wrapped their arms around her, just beneath her bottom, and lifted. She squealed, hugging their neck, her breasts very much in their face.

“You can’t see,” she gasped as they began to walk.

They mumbled happily. “Tell me if we’re going to fall off the tower.”

Fly. Fly, not fall. If she and Georgie went over the parapet like so, they would definitely fly.

A few moments later, they tripped on the pallet. She bumped down onto her heels then toppled backward, dragging them with her. Luckily, the quilts were thick. She thudded, painlessly, Georgie managing to slap their palms out in time to brace themself. They hovered over her.

“Whoops,” they breathed.

“Whoops,” she echoed, more sardonically.

“Do my pride a favor.” They gave her an overly beseeching look. “Forget that ever happened.”

“Never.” She taunted them.

They lowered down an inch, eyes narrowing.

“I’ll make you forget,” they promised.

“Unlikely.”

Their darkened gaze glittered a challenge. “I will make you forget everything.”

They pushed up, grinning, and crawled down her body. They shoved her shift up to her waist and knocked open her knees. Propping herself on her elbows, she intercepted their jubilant look as it sharpened with purpose.

“What are you—” she began but got no further.

They pressed forward and latched their mouth to the part of her already wet with desire for exactly that.

Her arms collapsed. Her head fell back onto the pillow. Her knees splayed, legs going boneless. Their tongue turned more of her to liquid with each hot swipe. This time, they didn’t thrust. Their fingers glided inside her, and their tongue glided too, stroking languidly. It was the suction that made her babble and beg. The hard pull of their mouth. She winched tighter, and relaxed, winched tighter, and relaxed, as they alternated tactics, obliterating her will, her memory, her mind.